


WANKR

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Don't stop calling me sir, F/F, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Mutual Masturbation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: Miranda's feeling juicy and logs on to WANKR for some fun. She hits up a profile that delivers more than she bargained for.





	WANKR

**Author's Note:**

> For one of those k-meme prompts:
> 
> https://masseffectkink.dreamwidth.org/9443.html?thread=47791075

Miranda made sure the camera cut her off above the neck and then signed on to WANKR.

Obviously she'd paid the very reasonable subscription for the premium version. It was the only way to guarantee that you'd be connected to real people, and not some cam-worker's VI honeypot or a teenage script-kiddie's extortion spider. She'd done her research. Their database was solid and their security was decent. Once she'd loaded her own encryption and route-masking protocols, there was very little chance that her activities would end up for sale on one of the extranet's less salubrious clip-joints.

She couldn't deny that the element of risk, tiny though it was, made the whole thing a degree more exciting. She cast her eye over the thumbnails, zooming to enlarge the dossiers of the ones she liked the looks of. She'd already pre-filtered for the saps who weren't willing to accept her limits. No face (but you show me yours), no toys, no repeat customers. Any violations would result in a _very_ negative review.

That last rule she'd had to learn the hard way. She formed attachments far too quickly, and WANKR was a well-honed platform that kept you coming (oh, yes) back using all the tricks in the book. Her own rating was solid-gold, five-star, rainbow-unicorn and she was rather proud of that, but she wouldn't risk being compromised again. Finding your regular wank-buddy loitering outside your apartment with a head full of romantic delusions could be an embarrassment for all concerned.

There were other, even more specialised and discriminating services for face-to-face hookups, and Miranda used them when her omnitool told her she was ovulating and she had the time. During working hours, on assignment, or aboard ship like now, she had to confine herself to the more discreet pleasures available from her private terminal.

Miranda was feeling decidedly unloved, today, after a long and frustrating argument with Shepard that boiled down to who wore the pants. If Shepard had been a man, Miranda might have given in sooner and spared herself the aggravation. There was something about taking orders from that smug bitch that really wound her up, though. It was like she'd never learned that compromise was a thing that real people did sometimes.

Miranda shivered in her seat. She was ready. She flicked through a few profiles, looking not so much at the faces but at the feedback scores and comments. She really needed this to be spot-on. She coasted through the array, skipping over the ones she'd seen before but hadn't picked for whatever reason. She filtered for newer users who met her stringent criteria. There was one that caught her eye. The skin, something in the bone structure... and a look in the eyes. A predator.

She read the reviews, holding her breath. There weren't many, but everything she could have hoped for was there. A hundred-percent no-holds-barred top. High adherence to protocol. A cruel streak. Oh, please, please be online, Miranda thought.

Her heart was in her mouth as she waited for the connection to bounce through the encrypted relays. A window opened on her terminal. A figure, standing, turned to look across a dark room. A lazy smirk formed as they came over to camera. As they bent down their face filled the window.

Miranda realised her mistake and flattened her terminal onto the desk hurriedly. Her heart pounded as adrenaline flooded her body. Anger swelled up within her, at her own weakness, at the admins at WANKR for not moderating the profiles more carefully, and at bloody Shepard for lying on her bloody profile. She could only hope that she'd pulled the plug quickly enough.

Miranda twitched in her chair as the knock at the door came. Her vision tunnelled down. Caught at it. The risk, the danger that made it exciting, had it all been worth it? She took a long rasping breath, and composed herself. She was ready. She would accept the consequences, the inevitable humiliation, the public shaming. Miranda keyed the door to open, rising unsteadily to face the music.

It was Kelly with her lunch. "Ma'am."

Relief flooded Miranda. She sat back down before she crumpled. She stared at the tray until the oils congealed on the surface of the noodle soup, unseeing.

Shivering with a heady mix of hormones, Miranda used her trembling hands to delete her WANKR profile. She knew how to do it in the most efficient way. She'd done it before. More than once. Now she'd go about her days waiting for the other shoe to drop, but at least it couldn't get any worse.

Maybe she should get it out of the way. Just go up there and find out if Shepard had been able to identify her from those brief moments. She found the tablet with the watch rotas that she and Shepard had so nearly come to blows over. It hadn't been worth fighting over. It was just an excuse.

Or a provocation, Miranda thought guiltily as she rode the elevator up. She was a bit blurry on how she'd got from her cabin to here. Her heart was pounding again.

The door to Shepard's cabin was open. Shepard was leaning against the bulkhead by the elevator. "Took you long enough." She tilted her head. "Inside."

Miranda reddened. So she _had_ been exposed. She didn't move. "Shepard..."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Call me Sir. That's an order," she added in a low voice.

Miranda felt her stomach turn over and kick inside her. What had she been expecting, coming up here? Wasn't this exactly what she wanted? She'd never respected a woman enough to take orders from one. She knew how idiotic that was, given her position. That was one reason it burned so good when she humiliated herself in front of the anonymous men on WANKR. So many. It must be nearly a hundred by now. Now Shepard. She was ready to give Shepard what she wanted. "Sir, yes, sir," she mumbled.

"I can't hear you."

Miranda stood up straight, put her hands demurely behind her back and repeated herself in a clear and confident voice. "Sir, yes, sir." She marched into the cabin.

"Sit."

Shepard sat on the desk with her arms folded while Miranda gripped the armrests of the chair. They sat silently, eyes locked on each other. "Sir?" Miranda asked timidly.

"You ever do this face to face before?"

"Sir, no, sir." Miranda trembled with need. "Sometimes, I hook up with a guy, but..."

"Don't make me drag every sentence out of you."

"Sir. I'm trying to get pregnant. No time to go looking for a good time. When I have the time." Miranda smiled weakly. "Sir."

"I fucking love it when you call me sir, Miranda." Shepard put her hands on her hips. "Rules?"

Miranda blushed. She was falling into her habits naturally. Shepard was showing her true self, all steel and authority, and Miranda found she barely cared what she had between her legs. She thought about the question. "Please sir, no marks. Sir."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Sir, no, sir."

"Now beg."

"Sir, please," she began. "Please, sir. May I touch myself?"

"Not yet. Take off your jacket. Undo your pants."

Miranda hurried to obey. "Sir, yes sir." When she was done, she put her hands back on the armrests. Her chest heaved with anticipation.

"Get those out." Shepard pointed at her breasts.

Miranda's bra might be highly engineered, but it was still rather difficult to undo. "Sorry, sir," she said when she was finally finished.

Shepard extended a finger and lifted Miranda's chin to look up at her. "Don't move."

"Sir." Miranda gulped. She was afraid. Excited and afraid, both at once.

There was a crack of flesh on flesh. Miranda grabbed the armrests and tried not to wince, but she couldn't help herself. Her left tit burned where Shepard had slapped it.

Shepard pushed Miranda's chin back to where she wanted it.

Miranda's eyes watered as she waited for the next one. She focused on the bridge of Shepard's nose. The next slap found her left tit again. Miranda's lower lip quivered. This time she raised her eyes to meet Shepard's automatically.

Shepard counted ten strokes methodically, slapping the side Miranda's left breast in the same place each time, waiting for Miranda to look her in the eye each time. It stung worse with every slap. Tears trickled out of the corner of Miranda's eyes. "What do you say?" Shepard asked.

"Sir, thank you, sir!" Miranda coughed.

"Good." Shepard switched hands and gave Miranda's right breast the same treatment. A pause between each slap, the time from when Miranda looked her in the eye to the stroke itself never the same twice. The slaps, heavy and stinging, caused a dull ache all the way down Miranda's spine and up between her shoulders.

"Sir, thank you, sir," Miranda said again.

Shepard seemed satisfied. "Now put your hand in your panties. Fingerfuck yourself."

Miranda's underwear was already soaked through. She rushed to comply. "Sir, yes, sir."

Shepard busied herself with her own crotch, undoing her fly and sticking a hand in to massage herself. "Is it true, what you said in your profile, Miranda?" she asked. "You can only come with permission?"

Miranda shivered at the prospect. She'd never done something quite like this before. It was one thing to talk out your dirty, submissive fantasies with a stranger light-years away who you'd never see again, and quite another to be spanked on the tits by your boss in her office. Even as she answered promptly, she had her doubts whether it was still true. She felt like she might explode at any moment. "Sir, yes, sir. And..."

Shepard pulled Miranda's chin back to the outstretched, uptilted pose that she liked. "What did I tell you?"

Miranda had a finger inside herself and was squeezing at her labia with the rest of her hand. "Sir, sorry, sir. You told me not to make you drag every sentence out of me, sir. And it has to be a man, that gives me permission, sir."

"Uh-huh." Shepard slapped Miranda's left tit once, hard, to make her point. "So why're you here?"

"Sir, I _thought_ it had to be a man, sir. But..." Miranda was trying not to wriggle in the chair but the feelings radiating out of her crotch were amazing. The pain in her tits was barely a distraction.

Shepard's brow furrowed. "What did I tell you?" she repeated calmly.

Miranda cringed. A flurry of forehand slaps landed on her left tit, then backhand to her right. She bit her lip and choked back a sob, trying all the while to keep her eyes on Shepard. "Sir, sorry, sir! But then I met you, sir!"

Shepard's cheeks were flushed nicely pink. Her hand moved deliberately under her partly undone fly. "Good answer." She smirked as she reached forward again and found Miranda's engorged left nipple.

Miranda's eyes watered as Shepard twisted and squeezed her nipple slowly. She clamped her lips together and panted through her nostrils. The pain built so slowly, she could deal with it for now, as long as Shepard didn't go any further... "Fuck!" she cried.

Shepard grinned. "What's that, now?" She moved on to the right nipple, and began again.

"Sir, please, that really hurt, please, no, sir..." Miranda babbled. Shepard was merciless. "Aaaugh!" Miranda wailed. "You're tearing my tits off, you bitch!"

Shepard struck her open handed across the cheeks, back and forth. "What did you call me?" Her voice dripped with venom.

Miranda's blood ran cold. Her voice quavered as she replied. "Sir, I'm sorry I called you a bitch, sir."

"And whose tits are these?"

"Sir, these are your tits, sir."

"Hurt my tits, then."

Miranda took her abused left nipple between finger and thumb and began to twist it. Her lower lip trembled. The pain came faster the second time.

"Harder."

Miranda keened as she twisted and crushed her nipple by Shepard's command.

"Now the other one."

Miranda's free hand was shaking so hard that Shepard had to steady it with her own. She twisted her right nipple savagely, trying to get it over with.

"Slower."

"Sir, please..." Miranda begged.

"Do it."

Miranda forced herself to comply. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Shepard held her hand in place.

"Now come."

Miranda's eyes widened. She'd stopped frigging herself when Shepard had first gone for a nipple. Now she started again, going straight for her clit.

"Come on. Come for me, Miranda. Come hard."

Miranda screwed up her face as she tried to overwhelm the pain in her nipple with the rampant feelings in her crotch.

"Look at me. Not down there. Up here. Come. Come, looking in my eyes." Shepard almost sounded tender.

Miranda's face was puffy and red, wet with tears. "Sir," she squeaked as she rubbed herself ever more maniacally. "Sir!"

"Come. That's an order," Shepard said. Her eyes shone as she fed on Miranda's desperation to comply.

Miranda's eyes closed as she felt her orgasm arrive. Then Shepard grabbed her firmly by the chin, leaning in close until their noses were almost touching. Miranda forced her eyes to open as her body started to convulse. "Sir..." she squeezed out of her lungs between contractions, "... thank you... sir..."

The tip of Shepard's tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth while a furrow creased her brow were the only signs of her own fierce climax.

Miranda shuddered to a stop. Shepard held her while her body slackened, then reached for a blanket when she felt Miranda's quivering shoulders. She guided her over to the easy chair and settled her in it. She sat opposite, arms spread wide across the back of the sofa, and smiled broadly.

"You're a little bit scary, Shepard," said Miranda, without rancor. She probed her breasts carefully, checking for damage. Barely a bruise. She wondered where Shepard had learned how to do that. She'd done it so well.

"Just a little?" Shepard grinned. "Aw."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Was this a one-time thing?" Shepard asked.

Miranda reddened. Of course it wasn't. She wanted to drop to her knees and give her perfect body to Shepard to be toyed with forever. "I might be persuaded to break the rules."

Shepard's smile was beautiful and terrifying.


End file.
